


Summer Storms

by nnoiz



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (as much of a slow burn as i can make it), (ill try to update at least once a month), Akaashi Keiji's parents - Freeform, Alpha Bokuto Koutarou, Alpha Kuroo Tetsurou, Alpha Sawamura Daichi, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bonding, Forced Bonding, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Mpreg, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kuroo Tetsurou is a Good Friend, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Akaashi Keiji, Omega Discrimination, Omega Kozume Kenma, Omega Sugawara Koushi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Bokuto Koutarou, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recovery, Regret, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Trauma, Violence, akaashi keiji has anxiety, omega drop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:55:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25018132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nnoiz/pseuds/nnoiz
Summary: [ From this close he can see it.A black and blue bruise across the neck, just at the juncture of the left shoulder. Deep, festering punctures in a near perfect circle, open and bleeding.A mating claim.A forced mating claim, seeing as the alpha didn’t stick around to care for the wound. ]ORBokuto Koutaro hasn't spoken to Akaashi since he's graduated. He regrets it, but he can't let his personal feelings get in the way of the young omega's future. That is, until they meet again years later, under terribly unfortunate circumstances. And maybe now, when Akaashi needs it most, Bokuto can finally let himself share the love he has.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Original Male Character(s), Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 99
Kudos: 354





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first true fanfic. I've written creative works in the past, but I admit I'm a little rusty. I hope you find this story to be enjoyable, at least.
> 
> This story does have discussions of domestic abuse, violence, (implied) rape, and forced mating/bonding. If these topics are at all triggering to you, please click away. This is a work of FICTION.
> 
> Rest assured it will have a happy ending!

There’s no breeze in summer storms. They’re hot, muggy, and notorious for ruining his hair. 

Bokuto doesn’t particularly _like_ summer. After graduating, he never really saw too much of the appeal of summer anymore. He couldn’t hang out with friends very much anymore, since they all managed to get jobs, and some of them even went off to start families. Bokuto just.... didn’t. Nothing appealed to him in that way. He’d never dated in high school, which a lot of friends teased him for. In university he started having casual hook-ups, but that was just to blow off steam leading up to his ruts. He’d never take a partner for his ruts, as much as others wanted to believe.

So he threw himself into work, just as any alpha in his twenties with nothing else to do would. He’d picked up a gig at the local restaurant as a busboy, nothing too special or particularly difficult, but it paid well and he prided himself on providing the best service he could. Lately, it hasn’t been doing it for him. He considers taking a week to visit Tetsurou and Kozume, but ultimately hasn’t found the time to pick up the phone and ask.

Today was a particularly slow day, one he deeply regrets picking up the double shift for. Late nights are usually manageable, but after working the lunch shift he idly wonders if the summer heat is getting to him. He feels irritable, and part of it is most definitely due to the draft of muggy summer air coming through the door every time some unfortunate soul decides to take shelter from the rain in their humble establishment. Not that he really should be complaining. The night shift often rings in the best tips. Still, he wishes god would be kind today and maybe not send a rain cloud to dampen his spirits. Especially right before he’s going to leave.

Bag slung over his shoulder, Bokuto braces himself and pushes out the back door into the narrow alleyway. He’s lucky he typically throws a tarp over his motorcycle when he parks back here, but he can't help but look at the vehicle with disdain. _Maybe Daichi was right_ , he laments, _a bike really does suck for summer showers_. He just breaches the doorway, already soaked from where water runs off the edge of the gutter, when he’s stopped in his tracks, door slamming behind him.

He smells it before he hears it. A sharp, ashy scent of distress, swamped by something hauntingly coppery. It’s heady, laying thick in the air in the midst of the downpour. Bokuto immediately reels from it, because there’s something else dangerously sick tainting the smell. Omega.

It’s then that he can finally hear it. Short whines, cutting through the rain every few seconds. They’re not loud, the acoustics of the alleyway amplifies the rainfall and nearly drowns out the sound. But Bokuto’s close to the source, can feel the way the chirps tug at his core, something deep and sour burning its way up his throat. He feels sick. Something deep inside him knows this sound. They’re cries, the primal omega type. The kind that are meant to signal help, the kind that are used by injured omegas calling for their mate.

Overcome with dread, Bokuto drops the bag in his hand, all but forgotten, and rushes towards the source of the sound. _The omega is hurt_ , his alpha growls, _omega needs protection._

What he sees inside the trash can nearly has him staggering back. 

The omega is curled into itself, shivering, atop the garbage inside. Male, from what little Bokuto can see between its arms, and startlingly naked in the midst of what is potentially a flash flood. The omega hasn’t noticed his presence apparently, and from this close the chirps become deafening and make Bokuto’s teeth ache. _Not now_ , he tells himself. _No fangs_.

He hauls himself into the trash can, crowding the omega. He wants to move him, take him into shelter away from the rain, but he can't bring him into the restaurant. Not while he’s naked, and especially not smelling the way he does. There’s a risk of further injuries from the movement as well. Bokuto can see the blood pooling around the omega’s head, staining black locks a deep burgundy where the rain doesn’t wash it away. A new urgency and dread settles in his stomach, and he sinks to his knees. From this close he can see it.

A black and blue bruise across the neck, just at the juncture of the left shoulder. Deep, festering punctures in a near perfect circle, open and bleeding.

A mating claim.

A forced mating claim, seeing as the alpha didn’t stick around to care for the wound.

Bokuto turns away from the sight and vomits. His throat burns and his gut twists. He reaches for his phone with a newfound urgency, hands shaking as he hits the speed dial. He doesn’t wait for the usual greeting before he’s talking, “S-Suga.... I need you.”

“Sorry, Suga’s asleep.” There’s shuffling on the other line as Bokuto finishes his sentence, his voice trembling as the severity of the situation. “Hey, deep breaths. Talk to me. Something wrong?”

“I-I don’t know what to do. I think I should call the cops but they’re not really good at this stuff. Suga works with omega crimes so I figured I would call but I.... I don’t know. H-He’s shaking but it’s not cold so I think he’s going into drop and.... Oh god, Sawamura, it’s bad.”

“Slow down. Who? Where are you?” Bokuto can hear Daichi talking to someone else. _Oh. Suga probably woke up_. There’s a couple more rustles in the mic before the audio clicks in clearer and Suga’s voice cuts in, sleepy but aware, “Talk to me.” He’s got his headset on. Good.

“At work. T-There’s an omega here. He’s.... I think it was a forced bonding. There’s a lot of blood. S-Suga what do I do?”

“Forced? You’re certain?”

Bokuto opens his mouth to respond, but the words won't come out. The omega has started chirping again, louder and more desperate. It can probably smell Bokuto’s worry. He can hear Suga on the other line gasp and call out codes to Daichi, and there’s a much stricter tone in his voice as he speaks again. “Koutaro, I need you to listen carefully. You need to calm down. The omega needs comfort, he needs your scent. Can you do that for me?”

Bokuto stammers, but eventually swallows his fear and hums in agreement. He turns to the omega again, immediately cringing at the sight of the mating bite again. His eyes are open now, glazed over and wet with tears. Instead of curling in himself, he’s now reaching out frantically, spurred by the scent of alpha — of help — nearby.

Testing the waters, Bokuto lets out a wave of his scent. There’s no guarantee the omega would want to be touched yet, so he gradually releases more and more pheromones to ease him into it. The omega stills at first, startled at the sudden barrage of new smells, before beginning it’s chirps again. These ones are faster, airier, and come one after another. It’s a welcoming sound; the omega is offering Bokuto to enter it’s space. He’d almost garner the omega’s trying to seduce him, but the illusion of the sweet coos is ruined by the sight of bloodied omega. The thought makes Bokuto’s head reel. The omega’s begging for an alpha, even after what one just did to him.

Taking that as a cue, Bokuto starts gently smoothing his wrists along the omega’s exposed skin. Waist, wrists, shoulders, anywhere he can get without reaching somewhere intimate. He’s also steering clear of the mating bite, but ventures a glance in its direction every few seconds, monitoring the blood flow. It hasn’t clotted yet, and Bokuto begins to fear the odds of the omega suffering from blood loss soon. He gently rubs his wrist around the omega’s cheekbones and forehead, giving him as close of a scent as possible to distract him. With it, Bokuto’s able to sweep some of the omega’s hair out of his face from where the rain plastered it to the skin. It gives him a clearer view, and a hot knife of horror twists in his abdomen. _No. No, no, no...._ The recognition hits him hard, and he all but collapses over the omega, shielding him from the weather and all else.

_Please, no._

Suga’s voice comes back over the receiver, where Bokuto has left his phone on speaker in his lap. “We’re almost there, keep it up. You’re doing great.”

_I’m sorry._

If Suga can hear Bokuto sobbing through the phone, he doesn’t say anything.

  
_Keiji._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would absolutely appreciate your comments on improving my work or your thoughts on this fic. I can't promise to update regularly but I will do my best to get a chapter out each month if possible.
> 
> The topics discussed in this work are not ones I condone. This is a work of FICTION, and any resemblance to existing circumstances are purely coincidental. I take inspiration from my own experiences to create this work. That being said, there will be circumstances in this work that are absurd or simply implausible. Do not take this work of fiction as an example of how to cope with or fix trauma. Please seek proper help if you suffer with trauma.
> 
> Take care of yourself. ♥


	2. Chapter 2

It’s raining when Bokuto first falls.

It’s just nearing the end of summer, and the club was finally meeting to introduce the first years. The day was beautiful, bright and hot but perfect weather for the club. Of course, before the rain came and ruined it all. Thankfully the club was meeting inside the gym, but Bokuto still had a feeling the weather would hurt the spirits of the new members. Most of the newcomers are already complaining about the weather, but Bokuto does his best to reassure them that, no, it’s not an omen for their upcoming years, as much as he himself believes so too. He’s just about to shut the gymnasium doors to start the discussions when he hears, “Please wait,” followed by hurried, water-logged footsteps.

He just barely has time to catch the figure coming at him, feeling a shoulder crash into his chest as they fail to stop themselves in time. There’s a couple of exclamations from the club members inside coming to investigate the noise, but Bokuto isn’t focused on them. Instead, he’s too busy being enraptured by the lithe shape panting from just inches away, a hand braced on Bokuto’s chest as he catches his breath. The second year stammers, but is too caught up looking at pretty slate blue eyes, barely visible behind long lashes, and furrowed brows. His wispy black hair is curling around his face, while some strands are completely flattened to his forehead. It’s not until a third year ushers them in from the rain that Bokuto can finally find his decency to lead the exhausted boy into the gym and finally step back.

His upperclassman hands them both towels, and Bokuto slowly towels off his wild hair, watching the other boy slowly do the same. His eyes follow the way the towel drags across his neck, while his senpai manages damage control, asking him if he’s alright and if he needs a change of clothes. Suddenly, and rather dumbly, Bokuto interrupts, “Are you here to register for the club?”

The dark haired boy, definitely a first year, blinks and turns to look at Bokuto in the eyes. He feels his face flare, like he was caught staring at something he shouldn’t have, and only then realizes the childlike optimism in his voice. He watches the other boy open his mouth, but quickly closes it as he studies the rest of the club members around him. Bokuto can't help but be enamored with the way his eyes squint and his lip pouts as he studies the room and carefully picks his words. “I’m.... an omega.”

Their captain is taken aback at his bluntness, and the omega boy seems to have confirmed his suspicions. There are no omegas in the club. Betas and alphas are most commonly involved in sports. Not that omega’s are innately bad, in fact Bokuto has yet to find an omega that’s any less than an alpha or beta at any kind of activity. From what he understands though, there’s just certain debilitating factors to their joining, such as concerns over heats and susceptibility to scents while on the court. Nonetheless, there are several teams that Bokuto knows of who have omega teammates, and some of them are incredibly big powerhouse schools, too, like Shiratorizawa.

Before his captain can say anything on the topic, Bokuto once again blurts out, “Who cares!” The omega seems startled at that and Bokuto lets it sit in the air for a bit before holding out his hand towards him. “I, Bokuto Koutaro, would be incredibly happy to have you on the court, Omega!”

The omega raises an eyebrow at his curious choice of words, glancing over at the surrounding teammates and their grimaces. It’s obvious Bokuto’s behavior here is typical, especially when the captain pinches his brow and shakes his head shortly. Akaashi settles his gaze on Bokuto’s offered hand and considers it for a moment. Then he shrugs, huffs a little laugh, and takes the hand while giving it a firm shake. “I’m Akaashi Keiji, and.... Likewise, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto doesn’t remember much else of that first day. Just that the feeling of Akaashi’s hand in his was warm, and he wasn’t really able to take his eyes off the omega during the whole club introductions. He pretty much stays glued to his side the whole time, having one-sided conversations about anything he can that brings that little quirk to Akaashi’s brow that he quickly learned means he’s interested, and his captain doesn’t say anything other than casting a sharp glance his way. It’s not until the club is done and they’re all leaving that Akaashi finally speaks to him again, though.

When the doors to the gym close and Bokuto has said his goodbyes to everyone, the omega pulls him aside and levels him with a hard glare. “You really don't care?”

Bokuto startles at the harshness of his voice. Akaashi sounds angry, but Bokuto somehow knows it’s not directed at him. It takes him a few moments before he understands what he’s talking about. “That you’re an omega?” There’s no response, and Bokuto looks over to find Akaashi looking at the ground, twisting his hands in front of him. _Ah._ Bokuto smiles and rubs the omega’s head playfully. The hair is soft between his fingers, so much so that he ends up keeping his hand there longer than what is probably appropriate. Bokuto has to remind himself, for not the first time that day, that they’ve just met. He pulls it back the moment he notices, and instead settles his hands in his pockets to keep them busy. “I meant every word I said back there. I can tell you’ve got a great brain in there. You’d be great on the court!”

Bokuto misses the way the omega’s face flushes at that, and quickly dismisses himself with a promise to see him next practice. Bokuto only hopes that he can work up the courage to ask for his email next time too.

* * *

“Koutaro?”

He jumps up at the voice. There are hands on his shoulders immediately, leading him to sit down. It takes him a few moments to realize it’s Sugawara in front of him. The warm brown eyes are full of tears, and something tells Bokuto it’s his fault. He settles back onto the floor and follows the breathing exercises Sugawara leads him through. In and out, in and out, he slowly begins to regain his awareness. He glances down at his hands in his lap, intending to count his fingers, but suddenly startles at the sight. There’s blood caked into his jeans, staining his fingers. His hands are empty. Why are his hands empty? His breathing falls out of rhythm, picking up again, and he can feel Sugawara’s fingers dig into his shoulders as he struggles to keep him seated in place. “W-Where—” He can't bring himself to finish the sentence, choking on his words. _Keiji_.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Sugawara attempts to soothe, but his voice is strained with the force it takes to keep Bokuto seated. He’s not weak, by any means, but he doesn’t have half as much the strength as the alpha and it takes nearly his entire weight to keep him seated on the ground. “Daichi’s got him.” The look Bokuto gives him hurts him more than anything ever has. He looks lost, like a child that doesn’t really understand what’s happened. He lets go of Koutaro’s shoulders to hold his head against his chest, ear right over his heart. He holds him softly but securely, rubbing gentle patterns into his wet hair and lets out reassuring coos. Bokuto whines into his shirt, fisting his hands into the back and collapsing against Suga’s frame. The omega doesn’t waver, taking his weight with the sturdiness that Bokuto knows he prides himself on possessing. “I know. I know, I’m sorry. We got here as fast as we could. We’re here now.”

“Koushi,” The pale haired male turns his gaze over his shoulder, towards Daichi. In his arms, swaddled loosely in Daichi’s coat, hardly shielded from the elements, is an incredibly small shell of an omega. The look on Daichi’s face is grim, and it tells Sugawara all he needs to know. “We need to go. Now.”

Sugawara nods and watches Daichi carry Akaashi into the car and lay him across the back seat. He stands there, keeping a reassuring hand on the omega until Koushi can settle into the back of the car with him. They should call an ambulance, but the chaos could worsen Akaashi’s condition and Suga can't trust the omega will respond well to strangers. It may be subconscious, but the very little fact that Akaashi is comfortable around them is absolutely something worth preserving. Bringing an unfamiliar scent into the group could possibly send him into a drop, maybe worse.

Koushi drops his gaze to the heap of Bokuto in his arms. He slides down to crouch at eye level with him, holding the alpha’s hands against his cheeks to ground him. Bokuto traces his thumbs along the tear tracks on Sugawara’s face, following one up to a mole beside soft eyes. He meets his gaze and Suga seems to melt again at the sight. _It’s my fault_ , Bokuto thinks. “We’re going to take him to my facility. Can you walk?”

Bokuto nods, still a bit dizzy. He lets Sugawara pull him to his feet and slowly shuffles to the car. Daichi leads him to the seat up front, carefully moving so that he can block Bokuto’s line of sight to Akaashi in the back. He buckles the alpha in and hands him a small handkerchief. It smells like Suga, caramel toffee and the slightest hint of whiskey, and Daichi curtly instructs him to hold it against his nose. At the puzzled look Bokuto sends him, he sighs, “You’re an unmated alpha about to ride in a vehicle with an omega rejecting a bond. I don’t mind.”

Following orders, Bokuto closed his eyes and kept the kerchief against his face and continued the breathing exercise Suga showed him. Of course Daichi wouldn’t mind. Suga’s entire career was reliant on him sharing his scent with those who needed it. There was hardly a competitive bone in Sawamura’s body when it came to this circumstance. Not to mention Bokuto’s practically a packmate, in everything but word and bond. Suga’s always had a soft spot for Koutaro and it’s clear Daichi does too. Sharing an omega’s scent between packbrothers is nothing new.

Daichi settles into the car and starts it, keeping a steady eye on Akaashi in the rear view mirror. He drives carefully so as not to jostle the distressed omega, but knows that expediency is also incredibly vital. Koushi’s sitting on the floor, holding one of Akaashi’s hands in front of his face and speaking gentle praises to him. The omega is still despondent, eyes clouded with the natural instincts to shut down, but seems to be aware enough to hold Suga’s hand and squeeze when asked to. Koushi digs through his bag on the floor as he keeps speaking to the omega, keeping him occupied, as he pulls out thermometers and flashes light into his eyes. The more basic checks he can get through, the quicker they can admit and treat Keiji.

Bokuto can hear Akaashi’s chirps and moans in response to Sugawara’s mitigating routines. There’s one particular cry that has Bokuto almost turning around, but Daichi catches his cheek and turns him away before he can look. A glance at the mirror tells him that Suga’s put a gauze against the bite, which has slowly started to clot _._ A forced bond. He feels a rumbling in his chest and tries his best to push it down. Koushi matches his gaze and frowns, seeing the expression on his mate’s face. Daichi’s jaw tightens and he pushes the gas down a bit further. “Fight it,” he growls under his breath, praying somehow Akaashi could hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know in the comments what you think!
> 
> Also, congrats to Furudate for officially finishing Haikyuu. It’s been a wild ride :-)


	3. Chapter 3

Bokuto doesn’t know how long it takes for them to arrive, but the rain has stopped.

He’s never seen the building himself, never had a need to visit, but knew it well enough from the few stories Daichi and Koushi share about their work. From what he understands, the facility bears a strong resemblance to a hospital, but exists for the sole purpose of housing and rehabilitating omegas that have been brought to them or voluntarily choose to come. Sugawara works as one of the counselors on site, while Daichi works alongside now and then as a volunteer, pulling around his weight when a firmer, alpha presence is necessary.

The rain has since ceased but the humidity sits heavy in the air as fog as the night air cools the hot asphalt road. The bright white light of the facility bleeds through the windows and eventually engulfs them as they approach. Daichi pulls under the overhang by the front door, throwing the car in park and storming inside, probably to bring help. He leaves the door open in his rush, and the sudden noises from outside seem to startle the two backseat omegas. Bokuto still keeps the kerchief firmly against his nose, but the scent has dampened over the brief period of being trapped in the car with other scents. He turns in his seat now that Daichi can’t stop him, but he wishes he hadn’t.

Akaashi’s crying.

Sugawara is muttering sweet little encouragements into his ears, a weak little purr in his chest as his own worry starts to take hold, but the sounds don’t seem to be reaching the distressed omega as much as before. He seems to instead rouse further with the noises beyond the open driver’s door, and the tears come harder. Akaashi’s biting his lips, muffling his sobs into little heart wrenching whimpers, and it takes everything in Bokuto’s will to not coo in response. He can imagine the omega crying like this before he was found in that garbage can, scared and confused, abandoned in the rain by the very alpha that staked a claim on him. The thought makes him nauseous again but he’s quick to swallow down the bile. _They bit him,_ his inner alpha seethes, _that alpha bonded him and left._

When Daichi comes back, he brings a few of the staff in tow. Two of them are pulling a gurney, while a third rushes ahead to aid Sugawara. Bokuto has to be pulled by Daichi out of the car and at his word another two strangers, alphas, have to keep him back as he snarls in protest. He doesn’t mean to, but it’s hard when Akaashi is sobbing fully now, without restraint, and starts fighting against their help. He’s just scared, Bokuto tries to tell them, but instead there’s a growl in his chest and he feels claws sinking into his arms where the alpha’s have him restrained. Koushi’s face floods his view, hands raised placatingly, but Bokuto can’t help himself as he barks and snaps towards the omega. He gets hardly a glance of Daichi reaching for him before there’s suddenly a sharp hand at the back of his neck, effectively scruffing him, and he blacks out.

* * *

When he comes to, he’s lying on a cot in a bare room. The space is sterile, free of any scents beside the antiseptic cleanser and the overhead lights are off. There’s a thin blanket thrown over his body, and his limbs feel impossibly heavy. When he turns his head, he sees Daichi watching him from the corner of his eye, seated on a cushioned chair against the opposite wall, close to the door. The alpha raises an eyebrow at him but doesn’t speak for a few moments, seeming to analyze Bokuto for something. He seems to find what he’s looking for, because he seems to deflate a bit and runs a hand through his hair.

“You’re a real pain in my ass, Koutaro, you know that?”

Bokuto flinches at the tone in his voice. It’s more gravely. Daichi’s tired.... no, exhausted. Bokuto tries to speak but it feels like his mouth is full of cotton, his tongue thick and numb behind his teeth. It takes a while for him to swallow and form a sentence. “What,” he fumbled with the words, “what happened? Why—”

“You snapped. At Koushi.” Daichi cuts him off with a low warning growl, and the statement baffles Bokuto. _Snapped? I would never._ But he did. It comes back slowly. He remembers feeling dizzy and anxious, and remembers wanting to help. He wanted to help Akaashi. _Keiji was crying. I just wanted to help. No one was helping._ He remembers feeling nails in his shoulders, stern words in his ears that were lost to him because _Keiji needed me._ He remembers Sugawara’s face, too close, _you’re too close, get out of my way, he needs me._

Bokuto drops his head in his hands, now sitting on the edge of the bed. His elbows are propped up on his knees as he winds fingers in the front of his hair and pulls. He tried to bite Koushi. He threatened a packmate. An omega. _Daichi’s omega._ “I-I’m sorry.” He stammers out suddenly, feeling white hot shame swarm him. He not only attacked a close friend, but that close friend was a bonded omega. Bokuto leaps off the bed and prostrates himself to Daichi, bowing deeply with his head fully turned, surrendering his neck. “I’m so sorry, Sawamura. Please, I didn’t mean to, please. I shouldn’t have done it, you don’t have to forgive me but please don’t let this come between us, I couldn’t bear it.”

“I’d have killed you if you were anyone else, do you realize that?” Daichi’s arms are folded across his broad chest, his stern gaze burning into the back of Bokuto’s head from where he’s on his knees. “Listen,” he sighs, “whatever the hell happened back there, I can’t blame you. I shouldn’t have left you alone, I knew better. And, thankfully, I stopped you before you did anything you’d really regret. But you have to understand that behavior is not tolerable.”

 _Stopped?_ Bokuto’s eyes lift at that. “You mean, I didn’t…?”

“No, you didn’t.” He lifts his arm, revealing a short gash across his right forearm. It’s not a puncture mark, thankfully, but it’s no tiny graze either. Bokuto’s pretty sure his teeth got in a fair amount before Daichi pulled back, if the long trail of dried blood is any indication. “Might leave a hell of a scar, though I suppose that’s punishment enough for you. A little blackmail to keep you in your place.” He smirks, standing up and offering a hand to help Bokuto to his feet.

The alpha laughs a little at that, still a bit sheepish but nonetheless glad for the reassurance. Now standing, he seems to finally realize the room he’s in. It must be one of the rooms for guests at the ward. Glancing at the bed behind him, and then to the clock on the end table, it’s apparent that he’s slept for quite a few hours. He wrings his hands nervously, careful to pick his words. “Did they, um, admit him here?”

Daichi sighs heavily, giving Bokuto a quick once over before nodding shortly. “His injuries weren’t as severe as we may have initially guessed, so they didn’t transfer him to a hospital, no.”

The tension bleeds from the wild haired alpha’s shoulders at that. _Keiji’s safer here than at the hospital._ “A-And the mark?” There’s a hopeful lilt to his voice. _If there’s no terrible injuries, then maybe...._

“His condition isn’t great. I can’t lie, Koutaro, I’m honestly glad you weren’t there for the initial exam. It’s.... bad. Very bad. When Koushi and I first arrived, we hadn’t grasped the full severity of the situation. We were prepared to handle a rejected forcebond, but there’s.... complications.”

Bokuto’s feet feel heavy. He’s never heard Daichi sound so.... defeated. _Complications?_ He doesn’t understand it. “What does that mean? The mark didn’t take, did it?”

“I can’t say much more. I shouldn’t. I’m sorry.”

The look Sawamura gives him is one of helplessness. He just stares into Bokuto’s eyes for a long moment, and Koutaro feels nervous to even take a breath in fear of shattering the silence between them. So he just nods, and Daichi seems thankful.

“I know you’re worried, nervous, and I know you mean well but you really shouldn’t be here. We’ll need you to come back to give a few statements about the case early tomorrow morning, but until then you need sleep — real sleep. Away from all of this. And, frankly, I…. I don’t feel comfortable leaving you on your own. Is there anyone I can call to come pick you up? Someone close by you can stay with for a bit?”

Bokuto deflates. The thought of leaving Keiji alone makes his chest ache, but he knows Daichi’s right. There’s no use for him to stay up, there’s nothing he can offer except his witness account, which isn’t necessary to draft up until the legal team arrives. At this rate, he’s just a burden, taking up Daichi’s time that could be spent helping Akaashi, using up a room that very well could be given to someone who needs it more. Bokuto complies, heaving a deep breath, and hands over his phone after he unlocks it. He’s not sure who Daichi calls, but soon he is telling him his ride will be here in a little under ten minutes, and that he should wait for them outside. _‘The fresh air will help you settle.’_ He says. But under the hum of overhead lights, the humidity does little to dampen his fears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What are your thoughts? I'd love to hear them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, Summer Storms officially has over 100 kudos! Thank you all so much for the support, especially on my first fic ever. Whether you're commenting, or just prefer to lurk and read, it means a lot to me!! ♥

Sugawara Koushi can count, on one single hand, the few times he’s felt this useless.

The first time was when his parents found out Daichi was courting him. They’d been a traditional family for several generations. A life mate, to them, was meant to be a choice made by the parents. They would be presented to each other, and would both sign a paper waiving the right to pursue mates outside their relationship until they were legally of age to bond. So when Koushi brought home Daichi one night for dinner, and introduced him as his alpha, it isn’t too shocking in hindsight to understand why his mother freaked. Naturally Suga left, dropped all contact with his parents and began living with Daichi. It was hard, and the feeling of being unwanted still lingers, but he was with Daichi; Daichi was home, was safety and love, and Suga was happy.

The second time was when he’d lost the pup. It had hardly been long enough, only a month after they’d found out, but the shock was enough to ruin him. The way Suga shouted, saying he wasn’t good enough, begging Daichi to null their bond and find a more suitable mate, he was sure their relationship was over at that point. But it wasn’t. They’d survived, though he remembers Daichi saying he’d rather drag his body through fire than feel the burn of Koushi’s grief and rejection through the mark again. The omega still feels himself at fault with the incident, and his therapists have mentioned that he may never forgive himself. But they were okay; and they haven’t talked about it since.

Each moment, Daichi had been his rock. They’d pulled through because Daichi was there. Koushi could keep it together because Daichi made it so.

But Daichi isn’t here now.

And for the third time, he feels utterly useless.

Suga breathes in long and deep, steadying his nerves with a gradual exhale. His hands continue to hold the omega against him, soothing strokes to the head and nape. Akaashi’s sobs haven’t ceased once since they’d arrived, and it’s only gotten more hysteric the more he would speak. He stumbles over his sentences, mixing up words and interrupting his thoughts to whine and sink further into Suga’s scent. Koushi’s done this enough that he’s learned to keep his scent steady for the benefit of the patients, but even with his training Suga feels himself rattled with the information that spills from Akaashi’s tongue.

“We’ll find him. I promise,” Suga reassures, and the steel in his voice is impenetrable, unshaken. “We’ll do whatever it takes to find him.”

Akaashi’s hiccuping has muffled in the fabric of Suga’s sweatshirt, where he presses his face into his chest and nods hurriedly. Koushi gently pushes the omega’s shoulders back and dries his tears with the soft sleeves. Daichi might be a little upset that his favorite pullover is getting filthy, but he‘ll just have to forgive Koushi just this once. Suga softly dries Akaashi’s cheeks, patting carefully under his eyes where the irritation and redness is the most prominent. When that’s done, Suga just stays where he is, hands on each side of Akaashi’s face, looking at him.

When they’d first found him, he was nearly unrecognizable. Dried blood, tears and snot all over his face. His hair is a bit longer than Koushi remembers, but it overall seems to have been kept up, albeit poorly judging off of the blunt ends and crooked bangs. When they’d weighed him he was well over twenty pounds underweight, and it showed in the deep eye bags and visible collarbones. And the mark....

Suga must’ve been staring pretty pointedly at it, because Akaashi nervously tucks his shoulders up and his hands subconsciously reach to cover it. The bandages they’ve wrapped around his neck keep it hidden, but he’s seen enough for his own imagination to fill in the details. Sighing, Koushi releases the omega’s face and slowly slides off the bench.

He’s got his back turned, about to start heading out of the room but is stopped by a small tug on the back of the jacket and a desperate whine from behind. Akaashi’s eyes are wide, frantic, like a wild animal caged. Scared. Koushi smiles sadly and gently pulls the hand away from the sweatshirt’s hem.

“I’ll be back. Okay? I just need to talk with Daichi.” Akaashi doesn’t look convinced, but concedes and pulls back again, curling his arms around himself. It’s a familiar tactic for omegas, as a way to settle and reestablish a feeling of protection. Koushi gives him one more strained smile before he slips out of the room. Immediately his back hits the wall and he brings a hand to his chest, trying to still his thundering heart. Daichi just rounds the corner when he spots Koushi emerging from the room. He frowns at the way the omega’s shoulders are slumped, and he watches as he scrubs helplessly at his eyes. The closer he draws, the easier it is to see the puffy redness around them between his scrubbing, and can hear the soft sniffles as he tries to compose himself.

Seeing such an expression on Suga’s face makes Daichi freeze. He moves carefully, holding out his hand, patient but not expecting, giving the omega his own space and his own choice to accept his offered presence. Koushi hiccups a few more breaths as he tries to calm down, rubbing his arm over his eyes a few more times, before shakily taking Daichi’s hand. His firm, supportive warmth encloses fearful trembling, and finally Suga leans into Daichi, pressing his nose into his neck and breathing in deep cedar and cinnamon honey bourbon. _He smells like home_ , Suga thinks.

_Home._

_I want to go home._

“You’re okay. You’re with me, we’re at the Omega Center. Take some deep breaths for me.” Daichi gently coaches, pulling Suga’s body against his and maneuvering them so he’s leaning against him and not the hard wall. “Floor?” Koushi answers him with a short nod and suddenly he’s falling, but Daichi’s grip on him is firm and they settle onto the tile softly and without much complaint.

They sit in silence, listening to the ambient background noise of overhead lights, distant murmurs of conversation, and the rise and fall of each other’s breaths. Deep, straining inhales followed by long, steady exhales. _In, out. In, out. In, out._ When the adrenaline high retreats, and Koushi is left with exhaustion, he finally finds the courage to speak again.

“He sounded so certain. He barely spoke a word all night and suddenly the first thing he says is….”

Daichi doesn’t prod. When they'd done the initial exam, he'd been there to hear what Akaashi had to say. Daichi knows what he needs to, but it's not his place to speak right now. Koushi needs time to collect his thoughts, and he’s going to give it to him. As much as he needs. So Daichi busies himself by rubbing soft patterns into Koushi’s hair, scenting him as he does so in order to settle him. The act grounds them, Koushi and him both.

Another two deep breaths, and the words come a little easier. “It could be the trauma, maybe he’s in shock or he's scared. Things like this dont happen anymore, right?" He sounds nervous, frantic even. "I want to believe it. There’s no marks that would indicate he was combative or that the alpha restrained him.... but the manner of the mark, and the state of his body when we found him, it has to be—”

“Do you think he would lie about this?”

Koushi’s hand tightens in his, with enough force that his muscles tremble. “No. Yes? I don’t know.” He admits, voice hardly above a whisper. “Akaashi has no reason to lie, but Koutaro was so sure this was a forced bonding, and it’s easy to see why considering the circumstances.... so maybe he's confused. Maybe he's just scared and saying what that alpha told him to say. I don’t want to believe it could be _that_.”

Daichi hums and stops brushing Koushi’s hair for a moment. “And if it is?”

Koushi shakes in his grip, hands pulling fruitlessly at his hair, body coiled up with tension. Daichi nods to himself and guides Suga back to his feet. "Hey," he puts his hand under his chin, lifting his face and brushing the wispy grey hairs out of the way so they see eye to eye. “It's not like you to doubt so easily. I know it's scary, and I don't want this to be the case either, but the fact of the matter is that Akaashi's telling us this. This is his truth. And we have no right nor reason to suspect otherwise. We’ll figure it out as we go, okay? Patience. Akaashi’s parents are already on their way, we’ve got several names for the legal team when they come tomorrow.... We've done what we can today.”

Koushi quietly mutters in agreement, and lets Daichi take his hand and lead them back to the temporary on-site quarters they’re staying in. They settle into the bed without so much as changing, Daichi slipping into unconsciousness easily at his side, but Suga’s brain keeps him awake repeating Akaashi’s words, haunting him.

_“I wanted it. I told him to mark me.”_

_“I’m sorry. I was selfish."_

_“I should’ve been better. I should’ve done whatever they wanted.”_

_“I’m sorry.”_

Suga rolls over, facing Daichi, and forces his eyes shut against the noise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A whole chapter without Bokuto....! He’ll be back soon, don’t worry ;;
> 
> Due to classes starting up again, my posting schedule may or may not get a little more sporadic and/or delayed while managing schoolwork. I’ll still do my best to deliver at least one chapter a month, but I wanted to let you all know now.
> 
> As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back! (kinda)

The car ride home between them is silent.

Bokuto couldn’t have been too shocked when Kuroo arrived. He only has so many contacts in his phone that he frequently talks with, and he and Tetsurou go pretty far back. Daichi must’ve told him at least a little of what to expect, because Kuroo hardly bats an eye at seeing Bokuto’s state, and instead ushers him wordlessly into the car. When he tries to open his mouth to speak, Kuroo beats him to it, muttering a quiet, “Let’s get home.”

And, well, he can’t really argue with that. So instead he sinks into the passenger seat, his body already going through the motions of fastening his seatbelt when Kuroo settles in beside him. There’s a few moments of eye contact, and Bokuto swears he can see Kuroo’s jaw flex as if he _wants_ to say something, but he doesn’t and Bokuto isn’t going to push him. The silence is deafening, but the ambient sound of the car’s engine and the rush of wet tires against the paved road fills the void in his head. If only it could do something about the emptiness he feels deep in his chest, like he’s lost something important but cannot remember.

But he does remember. He’ll always remember Keiji. Sweet, unabashed Keiji, who wasn’t scared to push his limits; who would uphold any challenge thrown at him, rumors be damned. He remembers long nights spent after practice, working to perfect their teamwork and the flow of each toss and set. He remembers brisk winters mornings spent huddled up near the heater before matches because apparently Keiji got cold easily. He remembers sweltering summer nights, the taste of watermelon, the sound of cicadas.

It's not until Kuroo’s pulled them into the garage, door closing behind them and the car set to park, that Kuroo’s gaze finally returns to him. Bokuto braces himself for something: a slap, a few stern words, a hard glare. He surprises him with a hug, instead. It’s not the best, it’s awkward with his seatbelt still buckled, and their bodies have to maneuver uncomfortably around the center console, but it’s a hug nonetheless and Bokuto immediately melts into it. There’s a firm hand against his back, rubbing into his spine while the other arm wraps around his shoulders as if he would disappear. Kuroo speaks into his shoulder, but it’s hard to decipher the words when they’re muffled against his clothes and with the warble in throat and _holy shit, Kuroo is crying._

Bokuto must start crying too because at some point, when Kuroo finally pulls back, the spot where he’d pushed his face into the black haired alpha’s neck is damp and likely full of snot. It’s gross, but he knows better than to think Kuroo would judge him for it, so instead he wipes uselessly at his face to make himself a bit more presentable for when they head inside. He only now remembers he’s staying with Kuroo tonight and his mate will definitely think something strange about the fact that his alpha is covered in another alpha’s drool and tears. That is, unless —

“Does Kenma, uhm, did you tell him anything?” He stumbles with his words as he keeps sniffling and messing with his appearance, scrutinizing the still dried blood on his clothes and beneath his fingernails. He’s a downright mess. Probably stinks like distressed omega too, now that he thinks about it.

“I told him just about as much as what Daichi told me: you were staying over because you found an omega in trouble. Though I assume there’s more to it than that.”

“Yeah it’s…. kind of a long story. Honestly I don’t know how much I can or even should tell you,” he sighs, following Kuroo as he unlocks the door and toes off his shoes in the foyer. Bokuto does the same, listening as smaller, lighter footsteps echo down the hall around the corner, followed by a curious, “Kuroo? Bokuto? Is that you?”

While Kuroo takes off down the hall, eager to greet his omega, Koutaro contemplates leaving while both are distracted. A furious knot of guilt settles deep in his stomach and it physically makes him feel ill. He wants to cry again, but instead he takes a deep breath and trails after his friend, finding them tangled together in a hug while Kuroo peppers Kenma’s face in kisses. They’re adorable, and the sight helps loosen the knot in his abdomen just the slightest bit. When they break away, Kenma seems to have only just noticed Bokuto’s presence, and shyly shoves Kuroo away. The black haired alpha mourns the loss, but quickly recovers to turn his attention back on their guest.

“We’ve got some leftovers I can heat up for you. In the meantime, Kenma’ll run you a bath,” he eases his mate in the direction of the guest hall bathroom with one last kiss to his crown and a gentle pinch to his side. Koutaro can't hold back his laughter at the younger’s face. The actions of the alpha earn him a sharp elbow to the chest, which he nurses, though the smile on his face is telling. _Some things never change._

When he leads them into the bathroom, Kenma makes quick work of getting the water running, careful not to set the temperature too hot, while also handing off towels and spare toiletries to Bokuto. He rummages through a cabinet to the right of the vanity, pulling out a set of black sweats and a t-shirt. “These should fit, but let me know if they don’t.” Bokuto smiles sweetly at him, raising his brows when the omega lingers at the doorway. The tension between them grows and for a moment Bokuto dreads that Kenma has put it together. He’s smart, it shouldn’t shock him too much, but instead the omega just turns and closes the door, but not without a mumbled, “I’m glad you’re okay.” Bokuto is left standing there, heart in his throat.

He tries not to let it get to him, but who’s to tell if he cries a bit longer under the running water, letting his tears blend with the hot stream that flows from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. His guilty conscience gets the best of him, and he ends up taking way less time in the shower than he usually indulges. He’s a guest after all, he doesn’t want to keep his temporary housemates up too long. If they ask him about it, he’ll just say he’s tired. It’s not necessarily a lie. The steam eases away the tension, and instead leaves him feeling achy and exhausted. Despite the protests in his muscles, he wills himself to towel off thoroughly and throw on the sleep clothes he was lent. Thankfully they fit, though his shoulders are certainly broader than Kuroo’s.

When he emerges, Kuroo presents him with a meal. The exhaustion must read on his face, or maybe it’s something else, because Kuroo opts to have idle chit chat in the kitchen with Kenma, instead of speaking with him. Bokuto eats in relative silence, but he can’t stomach very much. The chicken tastes sour and the steamed vegetables are much of the same. But it’s food, so he eats it gratefully, albeit begrudgingly. When he finishes, Kuroo informs him that the guest bedroom is ready for him, so Bokuto nods and excuses himself to sleep. Anything to get away from the pitying eyes of his friend. He can't blame either of them; surely they’re concerned, curious, and frankly just a bit scared. Usually Bokuto has no issue striking up playful banter with the two, but tonight is different. So instead they let him retire to the bedroom, with hushed goodnights and sleep wells.

When he settles into bed, his mind still buzzes with thoughts of the day. He can’t stop imagining scenarios. What if he’d called off work today. What if he hadn’t parked his bike in that back alley. What if he paid it all no mind.

_What if he never left Keiji in the first place._

And that is what his mind grabs onto, desperately, hopelessly. He imagines all the scenarios up until now, and how much different life could’ve been for him. For _them_. He imagines holding Keiji’s hands, patient and loving. He imagines conversations over shared meals, imagines the way Keiji’s nose would scrunch up at a joke, imagines the quirk to his brow when Bokuto would say something cheesy. The images swarm in his head and his chest aches. He imagines how different Keiji would be. Keiji, who wouldn’t be scared, crying, or confused. Keiji, who wouldn’t be forcefully bound to an alpha that abandoned him.

Bokuto imagines him being bound to Keiji instead. He remembers how the omega would flush from neck to ears, how he would stumble around his words shyly, at the mere mention of mates. He wonders if Keiji is the kind of mate that would need the reassurance a bondmark would bring, and thinks how easy it would be. Keiji, who was so soft and appeasing in his hands. Keiji, who treated every word from his mouth as scripture. Keiji, who used to grovel at the very ground he stood. 

Bokuto mourns the loss of that Keiji.

And as he sleeps he dreams of the sunny days he’s lost, back in school, and someone warm pressed up beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a ridiculous amount of time, I’m so sorry!! School has been hell and this time of year tends to weigh heavily on me, so content may be slower.
> 
> As always, I appreciate the support and would love to hear your thoughts :-)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hi! New chapter! And, uh, its a big one; this easily puts us over 12k words total!! That's crazy to me ;;
> 
> I really quickly want to wish you all a happy holidays, if you celebrate any of them! And a happy new year! Thanks for all of the support, whether it be comments, kudos, bookmarks, or even just reading the fic itself. It means a lot! 
> 
> TW // This chapter has descriptions of panic attacks and flashbacks, and a few mentions of violence and blood. Read with discretion.

There’s a sharp knocking at the door.

Tap, tap, tap.

When Koushi finally pulls himself upright from the bed, reluctantly tugging himself free of the warm tangle of Daichi’s limbs, he also hears the muffled voice of his coworker calling his name through the door. He’s also suddenly aware of the notifications pinging from his phone. He reaches for it, frowning at the code flashing on the screen. He doesn’t understand it at first. When the knocking begins again, this time more frantic, dread begins to knot in his stomach. _Code Grey_ , the pager’s screen reads. The time stamp mocks him; the message is from almost half an hour ago.

_Akaashi._

With a sudden burst of adrenaline, Koushi quickly dresses himself and wakes Daichi. There’s not much time to explain the situation, so instead he throws open the door and asks the nurse behind it to fill in his mate. He needs to go. If it’s been nearly thirty minutes since the code was put into place, there’s no telling how long Keiji’s been in such a state. His mind races with the worst possible scenarios: the sudden onset of a flashback, an intruder, an omega drop. His thoughts reel as he considers that he may be too late; they may have already seen to Keiji’s situation the way brutish security alphas always do, with violence and misunderstanding.

As Koushi rounds the corner towards Akaashi’s room, he can't help the gasp that slips past.

“Keiji!”

* * *

He doesn’t immediately open his eyes when he wakes up. He’s learned long ago that awareness brings pain, that the moment he leaves the blissful ignorance of his subconscious, he’ll wake up and be met with the realization that everything has been a lie. He’ll once again wake up in a cold, dark room, the scent of copper and distress thick in the air, the damp corner providing the only source of comfort in the otherwise unfamiliar space.

He lies there, patient, but it never comes.

Suddenly, the understanding sets in. It’s real. He’s out. There’s a loud blaring in his ears, the rush of blood, and a repetitive beeping that gets faster and faster with every breath he takes. But it doesn’t feel like he’s breathing. He feels like he’s drowning. The riptide is pulling him out to sea amidst the storm, the current ripping around him and his body sinks further, further. The pressure makes his chest cave in and all the air escapes past his eyes in rapidly fading bubbles. He’s dying. He’s going to die. He’s dying, he’s dying, he’s dying....

When he opens his eyes it's not to the darkness of an endless sea, but to a gentle voice guiding him through deep breaths. He doesn’t understand, he can’t breath under water, but eventually his body relents and he complies and then it’s there, it’s air, and he’s no longer drowning. He’s in a cot, too thin to be supportive but too cushioned to be uncomfortable. The face is new today; the doctor must be busy. The woman in front of him smiles warmly and it feels wrong, it feels fake. The voice in the back of his head warns not to trust it, but he pushes it down. He’s not there anymore. She offers him a cup and he gingerly takes it, avoiding eye contact and instead staring down at his hands.

His hands.

The thin plastic of the cup warps beneath fingers littered with scars and cuts and similar assortments of marks. There’s a unique bend to a good half of them that implies fractures and improper healing, and any remaining nail that hasn’t been run down to the quick has dirt and blood and everything between packed into every gap. Further down, his wrists are ringed in a hauntingly deep purple and the skin there has broken and healed over so many times that the texture has turned leathery and dull. The pallid cast to his flesh reveals every vein underneath, and only creates a stronger contrast to the bruising that no doubt litters the rest of his body. Thankfully, he cannot quite make out the reflection in his cup. Yet.

He startles when he realizes the woman in front of him has been asking him questions. She politely repeats them for him when he gives her a vacant stare. Does he remember his name? Does he know the date? When was the last time he’d been outside....

The first question he gives a nod. He knows that much. His name is Akaashi Keiji. He would repeat that mantra for the first few weeks, and it quickly became a habit for the remainder of his time. He shakes his head at the rest, mortified at the face the nurse makes in response to that. He feels guilty suddenly; maybe he should know the answers but instead he can only shake his head and bite his lips. The nurse woman, whose name is printed too small on her badge to read from the distance she keeps away from him, reassures him that it's fine he doesn’t remember. He knows it's a lie to make him feel better so he tries to appease her with a somewhat less horrible expression. It seems to do the trick and she quickly goes about assessing his vitals. She’s mumbling stuff under her breath, taking quick notes on the chart he didn’t realize she was carrying. A few times she has to lean closer to read the screens of the machines he’s hooked up to, and he catches a faint whiff of something subtly floral, unmistakably omegan, yet it's shrouded in the smell of antiseptic. The cause of her dampened scent becomes obvious when he spots the scent patches around her neck. He unconsciously reaches up to touch his own neck, but only feels bandages and a hollow throb in his chest. Odd.

She pulls a chair up beside his bed, close enough to have the comfort of presence and still far enough that he doesn’t feel crowded. She has the file folder in her hands again, and she reads it briefly before returning her attention to Keiji again. “So you can’t recall the last time you’ve eaten?”

She must’ve been reading the notes from the previous night. They’d asked him questions then too — only they seemed much more personal and focused more on his time.... away. What the conditions were like, was he being taken care of, was he ever given anything medicinal... Keiji shakes his head again, even though her question was probably rhetorical. He knows he had been fed during his time, though for the first few days he distinctly remembers how he couldn’t stomach any of it. After that, they fed him less frequently, and suddenly his appetite changed from surface level desire to necessity. If he didn’t eat, he would die. Simple as that.

The nurse only keeps her warm smile on. He can’t tell anymore if it's genuine or if she’s just using it to make him feel less uncomfortable around her. He doesn’t care which. “Don’t beat yourself up about it too much. We’ll have you on a proper diet and you’ll be back to eating normally in no time.” Her nose crinkles a little as she speaks. It reminds him of his dad. He nods solemnly and finally her mask slips. Her smile slackens and her eyebrows turn up in concern. “If you’re feeling up to it, there’s some men here who would like to talk to you. The center has already done in depth background checks twice to clear them,” she places her hands, placatingly, onto the railing of the hospital bed near his leg. She hasn’t moved closer, but even from this distance he feels himself pull back from her change in posture. “I can stay here with you if you’d like, or I can call Nurse Sugawara, or I can even request a separate room. Whatever you need.”

His mouth opens but clicks shut just as fast. From the back of his head, he can hear himself begging to be selfish. _I want Sugawara,_ he thinks. But from the other side, he can also hear bitterness emerging. _Worthless. Pitiful. Weak._ What kind of person would he be if he was to depend on others after everything? He can’t even look at his own reflection, how can he expect Sugawara to not judge him after the truth?

For the first time since his breakdown the previous night, Keiji speaks. “N-No need. I can manage.” His voice is rough and hardly above a whisper. It hurts to get any words out, but he recognizes the reason for the nurse’s urgency. The quicker an investigation is begun, the faster they can act on the leads he has provided. As much as his soul wishes to be selfish, he also wants to be strong for the sake of others. He’s tired of hiding.

And oh, how wrong he was for that. He regrets his decision the moment the nurse nods and leaves the room. _Wait,_ he tries to call out, _come back. Don’t leave me alone_. His chest tightens and he feels it again: drowning. His heartbeat thrums in his ears and he raises his hands to cover them, hoping to block out the noise. But it doesn’t stop. It just grows louder, louder. The waves crash over his head and knocks all the air from his chest. And as he heaves again, desperate for oxygen, he tastes it. 

Fear, distress, dread.

And something new. Smoke, like a candle that had just been blown out, and salt like an ocean mist.

Alpha.

Keiji whips his head towards the source and his vision swims. He feels himself pull back, feels the cold stone wall against his back. The floor is damp beneath his feet where he’d been hosed down hours earlier, yet some spots are still sticky with the unmistakable ichor of coagulating blood. Keiji’s muscles protest against his posturing, protective and threatening towards those who have entered his territory without permission, but he does his best to move despite it. “Please,” he gasps, and each breath is heavy with the scent of copper and sulfur. “I’m tired. Please, no more.” But his pleas go unanswered as the alphas move closer. He responds with a snarl and a snap of his teeth. It’s all he can do without weapons, without claws.

It seems like it was enough for them. The alphas rush him, and Keiji narrowly dodges one while he meets the other head on. He doesn’t recognize these alphas, they’re not the usual pair who are sent to fetch him, but he doesn’t care. Alphas are alphas, and if they’ve come here for him they are clearly the enemy. He catches the shorter alpha, shoving him aside. The taller, bulkier one manages to get his arms around Keiji’s chest and almost immediately the omega tilts his head and bites. He tastes the burst of copper flood onto his tongue and hears the alpha yell and jerk back. He’s quick to take advantage of the freedom, gathering a fistful of hair and hauling the alpha over his shoulder, slamming the alpha down. In the short moments the alphas are still recovering, Keiji flees.

He’s not sure when the rusted iron gates became wooden, when they put handles and windows in the doors, when the filthy stone floors became polished white tile, but he ignores it. The adrenaline pushes him through the doorway, senses on high alert. Someone in the hallway calls his name, tries to approach him but he stumbles back. He can hear the alphas yelling behind him, and he doesn’t have enough time to react before someone slams into his back and holds him on the ground. In a panic he swings his arms back and clocks the alpha pinning him in the temple with his elbow before there’s a hand at his neck, scruffing him, his body going slack and vision tunneling.

* * *

When Bokuto wakes up and emerges from the room in the morning, the air is tense. There’s a scent of sadness that permeates the air and for a moment he thinks it’s still the pheromones on his body, that maybe he hadn’t washed himself enough to rid of the scent, but then he rounds the corner of the hallway and he sees Kenma on the couch, head in hands, and Kuroo beside him rubbing soothing circles into his back. Though fainter, Bokuto picks up on the calming pheromones coming off of Kuroo in response to Kenma’s sour scent. It isn’t until he fully breaches the threshold into the living area that he notices the sniffling coming from the smaller omega and the shuddering of his shoulders. Kuroo lifts his head, realizing that Bokuto’s awake and his expression is grim. He kisses the crown of Kenma’s head, whispering something into his ear, to which he receives a noncommittal nod, before he stands and motions for Bokuto to follow.

Kuroo leads them into the kitchen, setting a cup of coffee on the counter where Bokuto stands waiting, nervous, before the alpha all but collapses onto the kitchen island, hands gripping fistfuls of hair and spine rigid with tension. Bokuto, despite the anxiety that riddles his stomach, takes the mug silently, indulging in a few sips. It’s not fresh, but the coffee is still steaming and is doctored just to his preferences, which warms him more than the beverage itself, if it were possible. But even then, he still feels his blood running cold at the way his friend is acting. He stands there quietly as Kuroo breathes in, out, in again, and then fixes his gaze back on Bokuto. If possible, he looks more tired than he’s ever seen him.

“Kenma got a call this morning. T-They, uh....” Bokuto’s never seen him this flustered before, not even when talking about his and Kenma’s engagement. The realization makes his stomach flip. “They found him.”

“Him?”

“Akaashi-kun.” Kuroo looks guilty. “His parents called this morning.” Bokuto’s mind reels. He’s not surprised to hear the news, obviously, but he’s definitely shocked to hear that Keiji’s parents found out and their immediate reaction was to call _them_. He doesn’t understand. Sure, Kenma and Keiji were close, but somehow the thought of them being close enough that Kenma shared numbers with his parents didn’t seem right. Keiji’s family didn’t ever seem too friendly in that regard. _Though_ , he finds himself bitterly remarking, _it’s not like I knew them very long anyways_. It wouldn’t be fair to assume that Bokuto was the only friend Akaashi ever had, and it’d be even more unfair to think Keiji would stop speaking to Bokuto’s friends just because of _his_ own decision to ignore him after graduation. _How selfish,_ he bemoans. _It’s not up to you to decide who he talks to._

Bokuto wants to say something, but Kuroo speaks again. “It was him, wasn’t it? Akaashi’s the omega you saved last night.” It’s not really a question. Kuroo’s smart enough to connect the dots. Bokuto responds with a shallow nod anyways, heart in his throat. Kuroo flinches at the confirmation, as if he was hoping to hear the opposite, and his expression morphs into that of anger. _Why is he angry?_ “You knew? And you didn’t tell us?” Kuroo suddenly rushes Bokuto, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and shoving him against the cabinets. The lip of the countertop digs into his hips, but the words spilling from Kuroo’s mouth hurts more. “Maybe I can understand not wanting to talk about it but, fuck, what about Kenma? They were best friends. It’s been almost three fucking years, Koutaro, and you didn’t think to tell us that he was at least alive?”

Everything freezes.

_What._

_Three years?_

Adrenaline keeps Bokuto upright, and suddenly he meets Kuroo’s force, reaching up to grab the alpha’s wrists where his hands are still tangled in his shirt. “T-Three.... I-I didn’t....” Kuroo must read the confusion and horror on his face because his grip slackens, and Bokuto slumps against the countertop. Where his heart was previously in his throat, it has now dropped in between his feet. He feels dizzy. _Three years._ “It’s been three years?”

“You didn’t know?” Kuroo watches as Bokuto helplessly shakes his head, face pale. He watches as Bokuto’s eyes go blank, thinking. His focus is shifted to something neither here nor there, vacant and empty. He didn’t know. _How did he not know._ He bites his lip, shifting back towards Bokuto again but this time with his arms open, and pulls Bokuto into a firm hug. “I’m sorry. Oh God, I’m sorry you had to find out this way. I thought you knew. I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t blame yourself.”

Both alphas startle at the new voice. They glance over towards the entranceway between the kitchen and the living room, where Kenma is standing. He’s wearing one of Kuroo’s jackets, baggy and much too oversized, fists shoved into the front pocket. His hair is disheveled and there’s heavy red rings around his eyes, as well as stains on his cheeks from the tears he’s shed this morning. “Don’t blame yourself,” he repeats, “they didn’t tell many people. For them, it was better this way.” And his words are true. The Akaashi’s never went public with the news of their son’s disappearance, instead just notifying those closest to the omega, those he spoke to and saw often. Things were safer and easier like that. It was much more simple to lie and say Keiji went off to university abroad, found love, or started anew overseas. It was easier to accept too, because in the end, deep down, they were only left trying to fool themselves.

“I didn’t find out until after the first year. The truth, that is.” Kenma sheepishly studies the floor, finding it easier to study the patterns in the kitchen tiles than their expressions. “They’d told me Keiji was studying abroad in America. I thought it was odd, he never seemed the type to travel so far from home, but I chalked it up to environmental pressures. If he wasn’t the type to go overseas, then at least I could believe he was the type to try to impress everyone and do something worth praise. I thought he was busy; that his studies kept him from answering any of my messages.” The omega sighs, approaching the two and hopping up to sit on the counter behind Kuroo, leaning into him, “But then my birthday came around and.... Nothing. Any messages I’d sent after that stopped going through. When Keiji’s birthday came around, I’d contacted his parents to see if maybe his number had changed. That’s when they told me. I was so upset at first, but after a few more months I understood why they kept lying for so long. There wasn’t anything that could’ve been done. It was as if he’d disappeared from the world,” he frowns, “as if he’d never existed in the first place. The only evidence of his life was his apartment and the memories he left behind.”

Bokuto’s chest feels heavy. His mind reels with the information he’s been given. He can’t stop thinking of Keiji, poor, helpless Keiji, trapped in nothing less than hell for the past three years. He thinks about Kenma, lost and afraid, unable to do anything but imagine the worst with every passing day. He imagines Keiji’s parents, wonders if they mourned for their son and lost faith with every moment without new information on his whereabouts. He imagines himself, selfish and guilty, finally reuniting with his first and only love, just to have the chance to reconcile taken from him at the same time Keiji’s liberty was taken from him.

As they eat breakfast and prepare to leave, Bokuto asks Kenma to indulge him in stories of what Keiji was like after he left. Kenma explains, albeit reluctantly, the period after their falling out in which Keiji was inconsolable. It pains him to hear the details: how the omega drew back into himself and how he’d briefly reassigned the duties of volleyball team captain to one of his peers. Kenma tells him everything, no holds barred. The depression. The weight loss. The anxiety. He learns that at some point Keiji’s parents had considered moving schools, but thankfully — and surprisingly — Kenma had convinced them otherwise. He learns it was thanks to Kenma’s support that Keiji snapped back to himself eventually. Though Bokuto had no doubts about that; Keiji was always good at reeling in his emotions. Maybe too well, if Bokuto leaving had affected him so much. He’d thought he was doing him a favor, but it seems his actions only led to more hurt and confusion. _Of course it did, you idiot, you were partners._

When they’re in the car, Bokuto finally asks the question that has been burning into his skull since Kuroo broke the news. “If it really has been three years,” he croaks out, catching Kenma’s eyes in the rearview mirror, “why not tell me?” He can’t help the bitter tone in his voice. _Why do I feel like the only one in the dark?_

He sees the guilt cast shadows in Kenma’s eyes, sees the way he nervously bites at his lips to come up with an excuse. He’s fumbling, and Kuroo is quick to come to his mate’s aid. “Simple. You never asked.” Bokuto scowls beside him, ready to bite back, but Kuroo’s firm grip on the steering wheel belies his emotions. He’s not angry at Bokuto’s question, but rather he seems to be angry at himself instead. “Part of me had assumed you’d already knew, that maybe that was the reason why you never brought up Keiji after graduation. Another part of me feared you didn’t.” He sighs, and Bokuto straightens from his spot in the passenger seat. “I wanted to tell you, both of us did. But it wasn’t our place to tell. By the time we’d found out what really happened, you had already moved on. It felt unfair to suddenly spur it on you like that. I know how it sounds, but I really was just looking out for you, Kou, believe me.” And Bokuto does, and the car falls silent after that.

When they enter the complex, they meet the Akaashi’s in the waiting room of the trauma wing where Keiji is being kept. Bokuto tries to maintain his composure, but it’s hard when he sees the way the couple looks. Both of the men seem.... exhausted. His omega father, Haruki, is visibly shaken when he spots the three of them. For a moment he seems taken aback by the sight of Koutaro among the party, but his attention is short lived when Kenma is quickly swept up into the older omega’s embrace. Haruki coos and purrs, sweeping his hands through Kenma’s long hair and scenting him with his wrists on every spot of skin he can see. As both omegas begin to cry, Bokuto suddenly feels like he’s intruding on something intimate and instead turns his attention back to the other Akaashi parent. There’s a firm crease between his eyebrows, and the tension in the alpha’s shoulders makes Bokuto nervous. Kuroo, seeing his mate occupied, approaches the alpha and offers some soft words of condolences. But instead of turning his attention towards Kuroo, he keeps his hard glare on Bokuto. He beacons him over with a curt nod of his head and Koutaro is quick to listen, shuffling until he’s standing before the older alpha. From this distance he can see the way he’s aged, see the greying hairs at his widow's peak and the shallow crows feet that are developing beside his steely eyes. He immediately comes face-to-face with the reminder that Keiji favors Haruki in everything except his eyes.

“I suppose a mere thank you is too little.”

“Pardon?” The words startle him out of his stupor.

“You brought him back to us. Nothing would ever be able to repay that; I am indebted to you forever. If there is anything you desire, you need only ask.” Bokuto’s jaw falls open as the alpha drops his head, then his shoulders, in one of the deepest bows he’s been given in his entire life. He feels his words catch in his throat at the display. For an alpha to bow to another who is younger than them, while exposing their neck in the process, is an extreme show of respect, conviction, and gratitude. Bokuto can only shake his head, his emotions getting the best of him.

Before he can compose himself in order to respond, there’s shouting down the hallway. All of their attention is caught at the sight of nurses darting back and forth around the corner, and the sound of a scuffle is obvious. The hair on Bokuto’s neck rises. _That’s the direction of Keiji’s room_. He opens his mouth to inform them as such, but in doing so he smells it. The cloying, repulsive scent of distress. The pheromones are so strong from all the way in the waiting room, and Akaashi’s omega father misses the chance to catch his husband's arm as the alpha takes off. “Seiya!”

The omega quickly follows, and so does Bokuto. He can hear it clearer now, as the nurses shout words back and forth he catches the words “alpha” and “attacked,” and it’s all he needs until he’s really running, managing to catch up with Keiji’s alpha father, Seiya, dodging around nurses who try to stop them and cutting around corners. When they arrive at the scene of the fight, they arrive just in time to see someone — _an officer?_ Bokuto can’t tell from here — tackle Keiji to the ground and scruff him. Seiya howls, watching his son, his _pup_ , go limp, and charges the man, digging his claws into his shirt and delivering blow after blow.

A second alpha emerges from Keiji’s room and makes his way towards the omega’s incapacitated form. Bokuto can see Keiji’s eyes from here, see the hollowed and blown out pupils, the way his lips barely move as he silently mouths _Bokuto-san_ , and it’s the last thing he sees before his vision goes red, and he’s charging the alpha. "Keiji!" The last thing Bokuto hears is Haruki's horrified voice, overlapped with someone else — Suga — and the alpha voice in his head demanding him to _protect, fight, save._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, Merry Christmas? Sorry for the cliffhanger, but this felt like the best place to stop. This chapter is 4k words but I easily could've kept going until 10k probably! Anyways, I figured I’d go all-out for the last chapter of 2020.. Take it as a holiday gift from me to you! I'm also wondering if I should switch up my posting schedule to instead give beefier updates like this at more infrequent intervals. What do you guys think?
> 
> And because this is fiction, I’ve decided to omit a good bit of the legal stuff. Not only because this is my fic and I can do what I want, but also for my own comfort. What goes on behind the scenes of cases like these can be very invasive and for my own sake I will gloss over a lot of the technical stuff. Hopefully I can still provide enough information so you guys don’t feel too confused about the process here, but if you ever need clarification for certain scenes or circumstances please ask me and I’ll do my best to answer!
> 
> As always, leave me some comments below if you’d like. I love hearing from you all! In fact, I look back on your comments a lot for motivation while writing so it really helps to hear what I’m doing well :-)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 300 kudos! Just 3 chapters ago Summer Storms only had 100.. You guys are amazing!

He doesn’t stop until Kuroo pulls him off the other alpha. The man is unconscious and bloody, his face hardly recognizable, but that doesn’t stop Koutaro. He only feels more rage blossom in his chest, feels more vitriol push between his teeth in hideous snarls. There’s an uncomfortable warmth on his hands that he vaguely recognizes as the same blood that is plastered over his face, though he doubts that it’s all his. Surely some is his own, judging by the burning pain across his knuckles. His breath heaves, and each one is full of the same overbearing scents. Scents warning of danger, of intruders, of _fear_.

Back against Kuroo’s chest, Koutaro can just barely make out the calming pheromones in an ocean of negativity. The scent immediately cools him, like rain in a drought, but the relief is short-lived when there’s another fresh wave of anxiety, and Bokuto feels the effects physically. His head throbs, chest tight, vertigo making his vision swim. He briefly recognizes the sounds of a struggle, but he can hardly lift his head under the effects of the pheromones. So he listens. Listens as he hears crying from multiple people, some quiet and restrained while others are openmouthed wails; listens as there’s grunts and gasps, sounds of physical strain and grit teeth; listens to the screaming from a voice he barely recognizes, bloodcurdling and heartbreaking as they egg on every instinct he has to _protect_ and to _help, save_.

_“No, NO! STOP! Let me go, I can be good, I’ll be good, I promise. Don’t take me back, please just let me go, just — LET GO!”_

“K-Kei—”

“Keiji....”

Everyone halts at the quiet voice. The omega, who had been fighting the restraints of two nurses, uses their distraction to throw them off. He rights himself back onto all fours, whipping his head towards the voice, bloodied teeth bared in the best imitation of posturing he can do in his current state. And in a way, it works. His figure cuts a frightening image. Emaciated, pale, with sunken features. His brittle black hair, unkempt and too long, casts shadows across his wild gaze. The hospital gown swallows his body, hiding the worst of the scars and bruises, but there’s plenty on display where the short sleeves end above the elbow. With his grimace, it’s easy to see his fangs, stained with blood from the alpha he’d attacked, as well as the blood that had dripped from his chin to his neck.

“Keiji, baby, it’s me,” Haruki croons, smiling sadly. There’s fresh tears on his face as he looks upon his son for the first time in years. He wants nothing more than to take his pup into his arms, to hold him and scent him again like he did when he was younger. The image the young omega cuts now, though intimidating, still resembles the same Keiji he’s always known.

There’s a familiarity in the situation. It fuels the dread that sits low in his abdomen, churning and twisting the knife in his heart. He remembers hearing similar shouts and wails, recalls the noxious scent of pain and fear permeating the air. And it all feels so.... similar.

When they brought Keiji into the world, he was such a small, frail thing. He had a hard time adjusting to the world in comparison to the life he had from within his father’s belly. He was plagued with sickness, but never once did he cry. Haruki and Seiya thought it a blessing, for their first and only child to have been so non-temperamental, after the horror stories they’d heard of from the neighboring families. Though the illnesses were their own league of trouble, there was some solace in the fact that Keiji’s mood was oddly stable. The only times he’d cried was when he’d woken up with a fever, ailed by cold sweats and body aches. In some ways, Keiji’s volatile immune system never quite grew fortified. Though he became sturdier as he aged, and the illnesses became more infrequent, those that did penetrate his defenses were merciless. Even a mere cold would leave him bedridden for days.

Keiji’s stronger now. His will has hardened, he would see it in the straight cut of his shoulders, the hard set in his jaw. And it’s that same willpower that allowed him to stay strong despite it all. The same willpower that now does more harm than good, pushing him to his limits just so he doesn’t break. Haruki watches helplessly as his pup struggles and pleads; he kicks and bites and thrashes in the hold of the nurses that try to restrain him — help him. It reminds him so much of a young, frightened Keiji, begging and crying for daddy to take the pain away. To break through the fever and bring release. He can feel something inside him crumble. The last memory of a naive, innocent Keiji tainted by an experience no one should have come to bear, especially him. The Keiji before him is no longer a Keiji he remembers.

A young man with pewter hair approaches his pup. It doesn’t take very long to understand the purpose of the syringe in his hand, and the placating way he approaches Keiji. They’re going to sedate him. He watches, helplessly and hopelessly, as a firm hand on his scruff makes the omega go pliant. The needle is carefully brought to the juncture between the neck and the shoulders, to that sensitive gland just a few inches below the ear. Haruki watches until Keiji’s struggles weaken, until his whimpers fade and his eyelashes flutter against his will. He doesn’t watch after that. He turns his attention to his mate, feeling his heart tug for another reason.

“Seiya,” he calls gently, approaching with an extended hand. He brushes it along the man’s shoulder, rubbing soft reassuring circles into the skin. Tetsurou had been the one to pull Seiya off the one alpha, separating the two as quickly as possible, while another did the same for Koutaro. Haruki shoots the younger alpha an appreciative smile, and Kuroo takes that as a signal to give them some space. Seiya is silent as Haruki slowly makes his way to his front, the alpha on his knees on the tile with his mate standing before him. Haruki cradles his husband’s cheeks in his hands, softly massaging the lines of his jaw. He can feel the stubble growing there, can feel the way the tension in his jaw eases up with his ministrations. From this position, Haruki blocks Seiya’s line of sight to Keiji and the commotion. It’s probably for the best. With his back turned, Haruki can turn his full attention towards his husband. “Honey, speak to me,” he urges softly.

“Will he ever rest?” Seiya finally speaks up, voice hard and carefully devoid of any obvious emotion. But the way his shoulders sag after his words are enough. “It’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t about what’s fair, love,” Haruki tilts Seiya’s chin up so they’re looking eye to eye. He can see the unshed tears welling in his mate’s eyes. Haruki knows the same is visible in his own. “You and I both know better than to expect so much from the world. Reality is harsh and cruel; it’s ugly and full of pain and hardships. You can’t immediately expect things to go back to how they were before, not after three years.” He sighs, resting his forehead against the alpha’s. “Keiji will get his rest. But for now there’s still a lot of work that needs to be done, and you and I will both be here to help him when he needs it, right? That’s more help than he could ever ask for.” Seiya nods solemnly, pulling his husband into a tight hug, no further words having need to be spoken.

* * *

Keiji is sedated for three days. After the incident at the omega center, Koutaro is lucky he got off with a stern warning. Assaulting an officer often results in paying time, and the grievous injuries Koutaro caused could have even landed him in solitary in a scent-deprivation cell. Thankfully the center’s staff, mainly Daichi and Suga, convinced the other officers that the actions were in self defense of a mistreated omega, a patient at that. The sensitivity of Keiji’s case would have allowed the Akaashi’s to press charges, but they decided against it. The situation was promptly swept under the rug, and any other references to it were only in hushes murmurs and passing thought. Koutaro doesn’t mind the wary looks he gets from the other staff members within the omega center. He can handle a few rumors.

What he can't handle is not seeing Keiji.

It’s silly. He hasn’t seen Keiji for over five years, and the omega has been missing for three of them. He yearns to keep the omega at his side, protective instincts at an all time high after the incident with the officers. It’s a wonder how he’d ever made it so long in the first place. But he respects his position. He has no right to miss Keiji so much after their falling out; which was on Koutaro’s own volition. Surely his family is grieving more, surely they deserve the time more than he does. After all, Koutaro’s been no help to the circumstance since he’d found Keiji in that dumpster. All he’s done since then is wallow in his own pity and lash out at the first chance he gets. He’s angry. He’s angry and jealous and maybe a little selfish. He would give anything to be with Keiji right now. He stamps down that thought quickly, shaking his head as if to physically dislodge it from his brain. He has to be patient. He owes it to the Akaashi’s, to Kenma and Kuroo. To Keiji.

It’s not until the third day that Koutaro finally hears stirrings from his temporary residence down the hall. Suga had generously spared him a room and some blankets and pillows, after realizing Koutaro had no intentions of leaving without seeing Keiji and confirming his safety with his own eyes. He hears hushed whispers in the eve of the night, voices he can recognize as Keiji’s parents, and then hears the click of a door and footsteps receding in the opposite direction, away from Koutaro. This is his chance. He scrambles up, careful not to make too much noise, and makes his way toward the room Keiji’s being kept in. Unlike his last room, this one has an entrance that is closed off, standing between the hallway and the room itself. The door into Keiji’s room is special access, and so far Koutaro has only determined that Suga and one other nurse have access to the keycards. But the entry room serves as an observational space, a large, thick window providing the optimal viewpoint of Keiji and his surroundings. Unfortunately, the high security measures of this room means there is no window, like his last one. The result is a room lit only by fluorescents during the daytime.

Koutaro miscalculated. When he opens the door of the observational room, he’s startled to see Haruki there. The two stare at each other for a moment, awkward and silent, until the alpha speaks up. “I’m sorry I thought you were — I can leave.” He takes a step back, angling towards the door when, “— Wait. Please.” Koutaro watches as Haruki offers him a strained, but no less sweet, smile and gestures to the armchair beside him. There’s a discarded blanket on the armrest, and the cushion feels a bit worn in. Seiya must have been sitting here moments prior. Koutaro finds himself caught between wanting to look at Keiji and keep his gaze on the ground. Now that he’s finally able to see him, he worries what he’ll see. The Keiji he’d bore witness too three days ago was not a Keiji he recognized. Feral, furious, with blood stained teeth and chin. The snarl pulling back his teeth and the fangs bared with it. Now, he dreads seeing the same. He misses the Keiji who would toss volleyballs to him after school, continuing to work even after hours of practice. Misses the damp, sweltering heat of summers and the sting of leather against his palms, the echoing clap across the court as he performs yet another perfect spike through their opponents defenses.

When he finally brings himself to look up from his lap, Koutaro doesn’t know if he should be relieved or disappointed. The Keiji he sees is hardly recognizable, but only hardly. It’s still him. Despite everything, it’s still Keiji. He feels himself getting choked up, swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat. “Thank god.” He breathes out in what can only be understood as his prayers finally being answered. “Thank god.”

“It’s a bit surreal, isn’t it?” Haruki’s voice startles him out of his stupor. He’d forgotten the omega was seated next to him. When he turns his gaze towards him, Haruki is watching Keiji with so much rapture that one would think the boy was going to vanish at any moment. Maybe he would. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“He’s here, home. Finally. But,” Haruki’s voice wavers slightly, “I don’t feel any different. I know I should be thankful, relieved that he’s alive, but I wonder if maybe it would’ve been better to never know — and I know how that sounds, I feel awful for admitting it but this....” He gestures towards Keiji, to the hospital around them, “This is not what I want for him. I’ve only ever wanted the best for Keiji. I hate to see him in pain like this, I feel so useless.”

The omega drags his hands through his hair, taking deep breaths so as to fight off the fresh wave of tears threatening to spill. Koutaro listens to him, listens to the hopelessness in his words as he opens up to him. Koutaro is reminded that he’s not the only one that has regrets, though it surprises him to hear Akaashi’s own father say such a thing. His heart swells with sympathy. “Keiji did have the best.” He reassures, not completely sure where he finds the courage to speak to him. “He’s really lucky to have you as parents. It may not mean much to hear it from me, but you did everything you could to raise him the best you could. You should be proud of yourself.” He takes Haruki’s hands in his, offering his firm support as the man crumbles, dissolving into sniffles and quiet sobs. “I understand how you feel. I know it better than anyone. It was the worst mistake of my life to shut Keiji out, and now I have to pay the price. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for the past, but I know that right here and right now I’m doing all that I can to earn that trust back again. From his friends, and from you and Seiya.”

Haruki laughs a little at that, voice wet and quiet, “We’re both doing our best, huh?” He squeezes Koutaro’s hands, turning back towards Keiji. With a sigh, he stands, gathering the blankets cast aside from his and Seiya’s earlier sessions of keeping watch. Though he hesitates only slightly, Haruki feels confident enough to leave Keiji in Koutaro’s care for the night. The alpha has a pure heart, he can tell. Satisfied with his decision, he makes his way towards the door, saying his goodnights to Bokuto and to Keiji from behind the glass. “I could never blame you for what you did, Koutaro. I knew you still cared about Keiji more than anyone,” he murmurs, before closing the door behind him and leaving Bokuto alone with those final words and his thoughts. The silence he leaves in his leave is deafening, but not frightening or overwhelming. Instead, it’s peaceful and Bokuto feels as though he may actually be able to relax.

Though the chair is uncomfortable, and he will surely wake up with a crick in his neck, Koutaro sleeps the best he has since before graduation.

* * *

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume your ass is glued to that seat,” Bokuto watches as Kuroo enters through the door. He laughs a bit shyly at the alpha’s comment. It is true. He’s temporarily moved in, so to speak. He’d called out of work, finally taking reaping the benefits of working endlessly long shifts without complaint. Thankfully his boss was able to make up for the loss of a valued employee, but Bokuto has all his vacation time to burn through, almost three months of it, and he figured now would be the perfect time. He’s appreciative that his boss is even letting him keep the job in the first place. _I suppose I still have my charm._

He turns to greet Kuroo while still seated in the chair. He really hasn’t moved at all. If anything, his chair is closer to the window to Keiji’s room. Every day that goes by without news, he begins to fear the worst. It’s been a week now since Sugawara sedated Keiji. He promised that it was normal in the routine checkups he would visit, reassuring Bokuto that Keiji was getting better. While the omega was unconscious, they’d already begun pheromone therapy to reverse the claiming bond. Though the instinctual changes and physical scar will remain without specialized care and attention, the chemical signature in Keiji’s scent and blood would vanish when complete. Any power the alpha had over Keiji would be nulled. Bokuto’s done some reading on the subject as he kept watch. He’s becoming familiar with the terminology Suga and his nurse colleague share in regards to Keiji's condition. Despite Suga’s words, Koutaro knows that the omega is suffering. The procedure to erase a one-way claiming bond was incredibly stressful on the body, hence the prolonged sleep state. Bokuto can’t imagine the kind of things Keiji must be feeling, having a presence he never wanted to be there literally driven from his body. There is, surely, some relief, but the instinctual feeling of abandonment is sure to arrive too. Part of him wonders if it feels reminiscent to him leaving Keiji.

Bokuto offers Kuroo a thankful smile, seeing the two cups of coffee in his hands. He takes one gratefully, blowing on it before taking a careful sip. The coffee is scalding hot, much like hospital coffee is, but the caffeine will help keep him on his toes. He wants to be ready when Keiji does awaken, which Suga said should be soon; within as soon as a few more hours to as long as another week. His stomach flips at the mere idea of Keiji being lucid again. The last incident hangs over them like a heavy cloud, and Bokuto hates the way he feels desperate for anything less than the Keiji they saw a week ago. _That’s still Keiji,_ he has to remind himself, _it’s still the same Keiji you’ve always loved_.

“Kenma’ll be by in a few hours. He said Suga told him he’ll be up soon?” The alpha tilts his messy head of hair towards the window, Akaashi laying in the same spot on the bed, not having moved once except for when Koushi had to clean him. “He wants to be here when he wakes.”

Bokuto nods slowly, taking his time with his response. “They’re saying he’ll wake up tonight, but it all depends on Keiji’s own willpower I guess. I really want him to get up but,” he sighs heavily, “I don’t know, I’m scared? You saw how he was, Kuroo. He’s not okay, and what if he never is?”

“Then you’ll learn to accept that, just as the rest of us will. It’s not only you who worries. But I have faith in Akashi, and I have faith in this facility. He’s going to be okay. Maybe not right now, but eventually. We just have to be patient. Okay?”

“Yeah.... Yeah, okay,” Koutaro laments, leaning back in the chair with a deep exhale. “Thanks, man. Really. I don’t know why you put up with me but I’m glad you do. Kenma’s lucky to have you.”

“What, is this a confession? Are you jealous?” Kuroo grins, all toothy and cocky, and the gentle smile Bokuto had slips away immediately into passivity. The taller male stands up and approaches him, trying to hug him despite Bokuto’s halfhearted thrashes and refusals

“Nevermind. Forget I said anything. Fuck you.” He shoves Kuroo away with one more final push, folding his arms across his chest and sinking deeper into the seat in a pout, attention fixated pointedly back on Keiji’s resting form.

“Ah, I see, not in front of the crush, huh? Alright then,” Kuroo teases, and Bokuto flushes and stammers around an explanation. “I’m kidding. I know you love me — Holy shit. Is he....”

Koutaro sees it too. He thinks maybe his eyes are playing tricks on him, because surely he couldn’t have seen Keiji’s hand twitch from this distance. But then it happens again. In bated breaths, both alpha’s watch as the hand twitches, fingers curve and stretch, and then a hand raises, up up up, and only now does he realize the figure has pulled themselves upright, and is looking puzzlingly at their hand, following the wires up to the machines, then meets their gazes and freezes.

_He’s awake._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are you all hanging in there? First month of 2021 is already gone! At the beginning of the year I tested positive for Covid so it's been a rough start to the year.... In the mean time I've kept myself busy playing Genshin Impact and getting back into the usual school grind. I've decided from now on to take some more time writing chapters so that I can really develop something worthwhile and also just give myself time to handle personal life too. As always comments and kudos appreciated! ♥


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